


No more talk of darkness

by phalangine



Category: Constantine (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 14:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21137888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phalangine/pseuds/phalangine
Summary: Sometimes things aren’t as difficult as you think.





	No more talk of darkness

**Author's Note:**

> the phantom book about the phantom of the opera isn’t one i want to recommend, but it did make me bawl repeatedly, so here- enjoy a bit i cribbed and repurposed

John is turning thirty-five. By some counts, he already is. It’s the day of the month he was born on, and never mind waiting for the actual hour of his birth.

If it were up to John, they’d skip the whole ordeal. He’d go from thirty-five minus a day to thirty-five plus a day.

There’s one upside to birthdays now, though, especially living in the mill house.

“Full English heart attack,” Chas announces as he sets John’s plate on the table in front of him. “Too much meat, enough carbs that you’ll need a nap in half an hour, some vegetables for garnish I guess, and coffee.”

He says it grudgingly, but he looks proud of himself as he takes the chair next to John.

It’s just the two of them today. Zed ran off to meet with her detective a couple days ago, and John can guess why she hasn’t made it back yet.

“Thanks, mate,” John says as he picks up his knife and fork. He means it and not just for the food. Chas is the only person who’s found a way of marking John’s birthday without making a big show of it. Before he learned to cook, he’d show up with take out and a pack of better than usual beers.

It’s nice to have him nearby. He’s more than company, but he doesn’t point that out. He just sips his coffee and makes occasional noises of disgust when John digs into the pile of bacon.

“You really missed a step when you decided not to eat pig, you know,” John tells him, like he has every year Chas has indulged him like this. “How an entire group of people could just give up bacon… unthinkable.”

Chas snorts. “I really don’t think that’s how it happened. And you do realize we aren’t the only ones who don’t eat pig, right?”

John nods. “Yeah, but some vegetarians find they don’t mind eating meat now and again.”

He winks, and Chas’ expression shifts from confused to disgusted.

“Not at the table, you animal,” Chas scolds. He reaches for John’s plate, but John, who knows this game, pushes it beyond Chas’ immediate reach.

Rebuffed, Chas rolls his eyes.

They lapse into silence, and John goes back to enjoying his birthday gift. It’s the best kind, really. There’s no evidence of it after Chas washes the dishes- which could have been dirtied by any meal- and anybody could have made it, so there’s nothing about the meal that makes it specific to Chas. If John doesn’t think about it, he can almost convince himself Chas just felt like cooking.

He really did pick well when he decided Chas was his friend. Complementary tragic backstories, Chas’ open-eyed sort of loyalty, their mutual destructive, not-quite-codependent personalities… They suit each other.

It’s a wonder it took as long for John to fall in love with him as it did, really.

They’ve got a comfortable rhythm at this stage of their lives, and John can relax into it in a way he can’t with other people.

Of course Chas has to interrupt it.

“This is really all you want?” he asks.

John freezes, the last strip of bacon just centimetres from his mouth. “Yeah,” he says. “Good food, a companion who doesn’t rock the boat- what more could I want?”

It’s a mistake. Chas knows him far too well to take the jab as anything but confirmation that John isn’t happy.

“You know, Geraldine told me she didn’t want anything for her birthday last year.”

John remembers that. Chas has always been the sort that knows what people want- he just doesn’t figure out how to get it to them until it’s too late. He spent two months tearing his hair out because he couldn’t figure out what Geraldine wanted, and she stubbornly refused to tell him or Renee what she did want.

Very much her parents’ daughter, is Geraldine.

“I remember. You yelled at me twice about blood on the floor, and it was barely enough to waste a tissue cleaning.”

“The fact that you think a tissue would have been enough for either of those messes is a problem,” Chas mutters. “But that’s an argument for later- yeah, I know what you’re trying to do. I learned something from Geraldine, though, and I think it’s the same with you.”

It’s unfortunate that Chas is so attractive when he’s dangerous. John’s psyche can’t dodge out of his reach when it’s tripping over the knowledge that Chas could very easily grab the rest of him.

“Go on, then,” John tells him. It’s better to let Chas get things out of his system than to try to push back. “What did you learn from your daughter?”

Expression softening, Chas leans in and lays his hand on the table next to John’s. “It’s easier to say you don’t want anything, when what you want can’t be put in a box.”

“Still going on about that pony, is she?” John jokes.

Chas doesn’t react. He just keeps looking at John with that sombre, puppy-eyed look, like he knows John is made of good things and all John has to do is look down to see them.

John’s always been more partial to cats, but that doesn’t hold much weight with Chas.

“Really, Chas. I don’t-”

“You do.”

He’s so certain, it’s infuriating. That he’s right only makes it worth.

“It’s one day, John. I know you don’t like it, and you don’t have to. But maybe, since you’re here, it’s worth seeing whether you hate it less when you get to have something you want, too.”

“When did you get so philosophical?”

“Probably when I realized Renee had changed the locks because she thought a demon would steal my keys and murder my family.”

“I don’t think that’s really their thing.”

“Well, if you think you can convince her of that, I’d love it. She’s one step from calling her rabbi some days.”

The hell of it is, John knows Chas expected this. He didn’t fight for Renee and Geraldine like you’d think he would have. He should have fought for his family; he’s always been protective of the people around him.

Chas isn’t upset about Renee thinking something evil might have ridden him into her home. He’s probably relieved.

Shrugging, Chas leans away once more. “Think about it.”

John doesn’t. He catches Chas’ wrist without thinking, and when Chas looks at him in surprise, John answers comes without thinking.

“I want two.”

“You want to what?”

John shakes his head. Why is Chas so good at reading him sometimes, but when it comes to things like this, it’s hit or miss?

“Two, Chas. T-w-o. Comes after one.”

“Okay, what do you want two of?”

And here, John’s backed himself into a corner because there’s no way to say what he wants without sounding pathetic, and of all the things John is, he won’t be that.

He’s impatient when he’s cornered, though, and Chas, who’s usually far worse about waiting than John is, has found some new well of patience.

“I want you to kiss me- not a proper kiss,” he adds quickly as Chas’ forehead wrinkles. “Just a peck on the cheek.”

He wants to keep talking, bury what he said under a hundred layers of inanity so heavy Chas won’t be able to excavate it, but Chas’ mouth quirks into a smile.

“Two, though? Like we’re French?”

“Don’t accuse me of being something so heinous.”

Chas’ smile grows wider.

“And I only want one now,” John corrects before Chas’ sudden good mood can make Chas say something annoying, like the English could benefit from being more like the French. He might even try to suggest John might enjoy something in Manchester. “The other is for later, at a time of my choosing.”

He expects some pushback, or at least some ribbing, but Chas skips all that to the part where he leans across the table.

John closes his eyes against a rush of fear, as if Chas is the sort of person who’d make a joke of something like this, and a moment later, he feels Chas’ beard brush across his skin.

He gets the requested peck, and it’s exactly the sort of friendly kiss he’s seen Chas give any number of people. Never John, though. John’s never been someone who gets that sort of instinctive touch from Chas.

When Chas settles back in his chair, John opens his eyes.

“You actually did that.”

Chas nods. “Happy birthday, John.”

Then the smug bastard nicks a slice of tomato off John’s plate and wanders off, but not before he calls, “Don’t keep the other one for too long. It might become a proper kiss by accident.”

It takes John a couple seconds to realize what Chas is saying, and by the time he does, Chas has already locked himself in his room.

John can hear him laughing despite John’s fists banging furiously on his door.

Five minutes later, when John pops up through a loose section of Chas’ floor by way of a closet in another room, Chas merely quirks a smile at him and asks, “Done keeping it so soon?”

“You’re a prick,” John tells him.

Chas smiles into the kiss, which only proves John’s point.


End file.
